


The Right Time

by metrophobic



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Middle School, Richard Tweak gets punched in the face, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrophobic/pseuds/metrophobic
Summary: Tweek is getting pretty tired of his dad's weirdness. Craig encourages him to take matters into his own hands.(Written for the Book of Love Vol 2 zine.)
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 13
Kudos: 141





	The Right Time

“Well, son,” Richard Tweak said over dinner, “big day in two weeks. A very big day! Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” This _big day_ happened to be Tweek’s 13th birthday. Yet the prospect of becoming a teenager didn’t excite him; it terrified him. He was already getting used to acne and a tummy that grew pudgier by the day, but the future loomed dangerously overhead like the blade of a guillotine.

Of course, he’d rather have his head cut off than confide _anything_ in his parents, and so he simply dipped into his mashed potatoes.

“I’m sure you’ve already started to see some changes—”

Tweek promptly choked. With such a soft, liquiform substance he didn’t think it was possible, but he felt the stuff leak from his nose like milk. “Don’t—” he squeezed from his lungs. “J-just, _nnh,_ don’t!”

“Now, I know you don’t like baseball, but—”

Tweek let out a watery scream and clapped his hands over his ears. The words tumbled from his father’s wide sparkling demonic smile, and they sounded like those times Tweek dunked his head in the pool. He could hear the people splashing around him, yet their voices never shaped around anything coherent. In fact, he was in the pool at that moment. No, not the pool. It was the beach! The calming rush of the ocean beside him… cool wet sand squishing between his toes… hands meticulously working at the elaborate castle before him… a puppy frolicked along the shoreline and licked his face.

Tweek’s eyes popped open just as a wave crashed over him. His castle crumbled into oblivion, and Tweek realized he was pushing his fingers into the mashed potatoes, shaping it into little turrets while his father droned on.

“Sweetheart, don’t play with your food,” said his mother.

“Do you need more coffee, son?” Richard filled his cup. “There you go. As I was saying, your mother coasted right into third base, _just as_ that pesky left-fielder caught the ball. And she was out. Yes, it was quite a long haul of a game, but it was the ninth inning. And then we won. We won! And now do you understand the importance of taking your time, son?”

“No?” Tweek stared down at his greasy, buttery, potatoey hands. “Can I go wash my hands?”

Once he received the go-ahead, Tweek hopped down from his seat and raced up the stairs. He washed the nastiness from his hands. He screamed into them while they were still wet. And then he washed them again, twice for good measure, before locking himself in his bedroom.

“Look at that.” Richard smiled proudly from the foot of the stairs, an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s like he’s a teenager already.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I just want it to end!”

The bleachers were their normal go-to at lunch: sometimes with the boys, sometimes without. This was one of the days with _out_ , for which Tweek was grateful. What he wasn’t grateful for were the inevitable smiles and waves from the Asian girls on their way in. They were inescapable.

“You want what to end?” Craig asked, munching his food. A glob of ketchup squirted down his shirt. Tweek picked up a napkin and swabbed at it, which made it look like Craig got shot in the chest. Tweek winced and flicked the soiled paper aside.

“All of it, man! This shit! This…” He yanked at his hair. Craig, halfway through another bite, reached over and gently pulled his hands away. His fingers were greasy, yet his touch soothed Tweek.

At least, until two of the Asian girls walked by to snap pictures with their smartphones. Tweek snarled something even he didn’t understand. They walked away, giggling between themselves.

“That!” He smacked the bleacher beneath him. “ _That!_ ”

“We could break up,” Craig offered. Tweek gaped at him.

“What? No! Damn it, Craig! That’s your solution to everything!”

“Yeah.” Craig slurped at his can of lemonade.

“Do you _wanna_ break up? Do you even want to be with me?”

“Well, yeah,” Craig replied. “Of course I wanna be together. But if it’s making you unhappy, maybe we should just call it quits.”

“ _You’re_ not making me unhappy! Everyone else is! Okay?” Tweek twisted his fingers together. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No. I thought you were breaking up with me.”

“ _Agh!_ No! No, no, no!”

“Okay.” Craig crumpled up the striped tinfoil that housed his shitty cafeteria dog, which he managed to wolf down anyway. He certainly was a growing boy. So was Tweek, but Tweek felt like he was growing more _outward_ than _upward._ He looked down at the squishy muffin of his midsection and frowned. Craig reached over and poked him. He always did that shit when Tweek was feeling self-conscious. Tweek yipped and swatted at his hand.

“Stop that!”

“Heh heh.” Craig prodded him again. Tweek kicked out at him and folded his arms.

“I do not consent,” he said firmly.

“Oh.” Craig dropped his hand and went back to his food. “Sorry.”

“My dad tried to give me the talk last night.”

“Which talk?”

“Something about baseball!”

“I fucking hate baseball.”

“Me too!” As if to illustrate his point, Tweek grabbed the crumpled ball of foil at the corner of Craig’s tray, drew back his fist and threw a pitch. The ball drifted about two feet before plopping to the floor below.

“Ha ha,” went Craig. “You suck so hard. But I suck even more.”

“No you don’t! I suck worse than you, asshole!”

“Dream on, bitch.”

“Anyway,” Tweek continued, “this isn’t the first time. I don’t get his stories at all. When we were at the zoo last weekend, he kept trying to get me to look at the monkeys! Like it was really fucking important! I don’t even _like_ monkeys!”

“Maybe they were mating,” said Craig.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Yeah. I was at the zoo with my parents last month, and this one monkey had his—”

“Stop it!” Tweek covered his ears.

“Okay, dude, calm down.” Craig tugged at one of Tweek’s wrists, and he reluctantly let go. “I only saw it for like one second before my dad said we should go see the capybaras. I like capybaras way more than monkeys.”

“I love capybaras!” Tweek smiled. Craig smiled back.

“Your dad’s a freak. My dad didn’t want me to watch, but yours did. That’s not normal.”

“Well, duh! My dad’s completely fucking crazy! God, I hate him so much!”

“I like you a lot,” Craig said. The tips of Tweek’s ears went hot and fuzz filled his tummy, though it wasn’t the first time Craig said something like that.

“I like you too,” Tweek said. “I really like you!”

“I think I love you, too.”

 _That_ was completely unexpected. Tweek’s entire body went rigid. “What?”

“I dunno if I can say it again yet,” Craig replied. “That took a lot out of me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Tweek cried. “You can’t just— what the fuck, dude! Craig! What the _fuck!_ ” He was starting to— no, he _was._ He was hyperventilating. He doubled over with both hands clasped to his chest. “Oh god! I’m having a heart attack! I-I’m having a heart attack, oh fuck, call 911!”

“You’re fine, Tweek.” Craig placed a gentle hand on his back, right between his shoulders. “It’s just a panic attack.”

“Why would you just _say_ something like that out of _nowhere?_ ” Tweek yelped once he’d regained enough composure.

“Well, I asked my mom, and she said I’d know to say it when the time is right. And the time felt right, so I did.”

“It felt right to say it after calling my dad a freak?!”

“Nah,” replied Craig, “it felt right when you said you loved capybaras.”

Tweek felt like launching himself right off the bleachers. He also felt like pouncing Craig, hugging him tight and kissing all over his face. Neither of those things happened. Laughter bubbled up instead, right from his tummy up into his chest, replacing the painful twitches of his heart.

“We’re in middle school now,” Craig said.

“Yes, we are!”

“And we’re not little kids anymore.”

“Right…”

Craig stopped there and drank more of his juice. Tweek waited for him to follow up, but he didn’t. “Um, Craig?”

“Huh?”

“What were you gonna say?”

“I did say it.” Craig frowned. It made Tweek want to pull at his hair all over again.

“Look, even if my dad or PC Principal or other people say weird stuff about us, you know _I_ still wanna go out with you. Right?”

“Sure.”

“And what _we_ want is more important than what everyone else wants! So why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“Dude,” Craig said, and reached for Tweek’s hand. His hand was gross and sticky but warm. Tweek didn’t mind. “Fuck everyone else.”

“I wish it was that easy!”

“It is that easy, Tweek. Stop giving a fuck. Fuck everyone else.”

“Fuck everyone else,” Tweek repeated.

“You can’t keep letting your dad push you around and pressure you.”

“I…” Tweek faltered, swallowing past the sudden knot in his throat. “I know. I know! But he won’t quit pestering me! It’s like I’m just this extension of the shop, instead of a real person!”

“Yeah, well, you are a person. Your dad is stupid and so is your mom.”

“I wish they could just let me be happy and support me! Without making it such a… _big deal,_ all the time! And I try to tell him, but he never listens to me! He just… goes on and on with his stupid stories and I hate him so much!”

“Maybe we should send them a message.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Tweek gaped at him. “You sound like you’re gonna like, cut off someone’s fingers and send them in the mail! If we do that, can we use Cartman’s?”

“ _‘Ey!_ ” Cartman’s piggish form happened to be lumbering around within earshot. “I heard that, you gay assholes!”

“We can’t do that,” Craig replied. “We’ll just get arrested and thrown in jail.”

“That’s true…” Tweek sighed. “So, what should we do?”

“Your birthday party.”

“What?”

“We’ll do something at your birthday party. That way everyone will see it, and know not to fuck with you.”

“Craig…” Tweek grinned from ear to ear.

“C’mon, we only have two weeks to come up with a plan. Let’s do this shit.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lo and behold, before they knew it, it was time for the big day! Tweek wore Craig’s solid belief in him like armour in the days that led up, deflecting his father’s stupid euphemisms and weird anecdotes that made no sense.

It was a pretty bitchin’ party. They even got a pony! Tweek didn’t like horses all that much, so he let everyone else have a turn. His father gushed at how selfless he was, setting a good example for gay men all over the world. Tweek grit his teeth, but when Craig met his gaze and smiled at him, it turned his frown upside down.

As the time drew near, the time when they would put their plan into execution, Tweek grew more and more nauseous. When his mother brought out the cake, covered in sparklers and big candles in the number **13** , he thought he would pass out right then and there. His head swam and he was certain his stomach would burst open, spilling his guts everywhere. Tweek flashed a wavering smile for the camera even as cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Craig’s hand slipped into his. Tweek’s palms were slick and hot, but Craig was clearly used to it. He gave Tweek’s hand an affectionate squeeze and Tweek gently returned it.

“Ready?” Craig whispered. Tweek nodded briskly.

“Make a wish, son!” Richard called out. He was practically glowing. Tweek felt his stomach stir with anger, but it also fluttered with a certain type of thrill. He was looking forward to wiping that stupid grin from his father’s face once and for all.

_I wish I could be myself._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tweek gave a great _whoosh!_ between his lips. A chorus of claps and cheers rose around him. No fires danced in his vision when he blinked his eyes open. Only the twisted, blackened little wicks and twin ribbons of smoke. “Good job, son!” his father shouted. “Always knew you’d be great at blowing things out, eh?”

Tweek drew back his fist and slammed it right in the center of his dear ol’ dad’s stupid fucking face.

The chorus immediately died down.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. You could hear a pin drop—literally. Literally, someone dropped a pin. It was probably Craig, just to be a prick. Craig, the only person in the audience who was smiling. Craig, who was proud of him. They were in this together, and always would be.

_“I love you, Craig!”_

Craig’s eyes went wide and his face paled. Someone breathed. Then someone else clapped, and another, and—the applause rose up. Everyone who had been sitting in their chairs stood up, too. A real standing ovation.

“This… this wasn’t part of the plan…”

The silence returned when the cheers died down: expectant. Entitled. Everyone was clearly waiting for Tweek to do something. Mrs. Tweak emerged from the kitchen with an ice pack, and Richard pressed it to his bleeding nose.

“That’s quite a right hook, son.” He snorted, loud and disgusting. “It’s a shame I have to ground you on your birthday.”

“You can’t ground me!” Tweek fired back. “That’s homophobic!”

“That’s right bro, don’t take away his rights as an LGBTQ+ individual!”

“Yeah!” Butters chimed in.

“All right,” said Richard. “Give Craig a kiss so we can put it on Instagram, and you won’t be grounded.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tweek’s shoes squeaked against the floor as he pushed back the dingy yellow mop bucket and wiped his brow. One more item to check off on the daily list. He took a hearty slurp from the iced coffee he’d set down on a shelf and planted his butt onto a nearby stool with a sigh.

A tap on the back door immediately lifted his spirits. Tweek hopped up and pushed it open. The stale air wafted in from the dumpsters outside, and there was a homeless guy sleeping on a pile of garbage, but Tweek didn’t care about that. “Quick, get in here!”

“Are you sure the cameras are off?”

“Positive!” Their path back into the cafe left two pairs of dirty shoe prints across the freshly-mopped floor of the storage room, but Tweek didn’t care about that, either.

“I still think you shoulda just taken the plea bargain,” Craig remarked as he pulled out boxes of City Wok and arranged them on a cafe table.

“What the Hell, Craig! No!” Tweek retrieved two small pastry plates, along with some of the leftover birthday cake he snuck from home. He had to admit, even if he was in deep trouble and it was all his parents’ fault, his mother did a pretty impressive job on his cake. It was layered on the inside: all the colours of the rainbow. “Are those candles?”

“Yep.” With the flick of a match Craig lit the silver centerpiece, and a warm golden glow filled their little place in the room. “Stole it from my mom.”

“You know, if I wasn’t grounded, I’d be sitting at home with my parents instead!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Craig reached over and took Tweek’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “This is kinda gay.”

“ _You’re_ kinda gay,” Tweek said, and leaned over to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> gay


End file.
